


iron and ice (and everything in between)

by chancellor_valdez



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, One Shot, Theon loves Sansa, and Sansa loves Theon, just a bunch of stuff idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chancellor_valdez/pseuds/chancellor_valdez
Summary: Theonsa + _____(little prompt fills + requests originally posted to tumblr)





	1. + camp counselors

**Author's Note:**

> i think they're cute and i figured whatever i'll post them here too. for theonsa and for happiness
> 
> (@trashy-greyjoy on tumblr if you wanna send me some, i just might take forever to fill them<3)
> 
>  
> 
> now enjoy!

Sansa and Theon think no one realizes they really want to fuck each other. 

Arya knows for a fact, literally everyone does. 

It’s the worst kept secret at camp. Doe eyed Sansa Stark having the hots for the bad boy kitchen help Theon Greyjoy. Half the other counselors have money on if it’ll happen, several of the camp-goers on if.

(Arya’s betting on their last night, because they’re idiots. 

Robb is betting on never because he’s in denial, and they’re idiots.)

Her sister was talented in a number of things: acting, sewing, existing, but pretending like she wasn’t completely in love with her brother’s dumb ass best friend was not one of them.

Theon, for his credit, was a master class liar, except when it came to saying Sansa was like his little sister and he did not want to kiss her. 

Honestly, they were tragic. Some days Arya hoped she’d lose the bet just so she wouldn’t have to keep witnessing just how gross and annoying they were. The way Sansa would giggle and mess with his hair and always need to ‘check on something in the kitchen’. The way Theon told bad jokes to make her laugh and was never more than a few feet away from her and saved some her favorite lemon snack cakes under the sink.

They way they were always touching each other and looking lost when the other was gone and picking petty arguments to make the other squirm. Really, it would be disgusting if it wasn’t so sad.

Even Podrick had picked up on it, and frankly, Podrick was a little dense.

Every day, all day, Arya considered just saying fuck it and locking them both in a supply closet with a box of Trojans until they worked it out.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to. 

Because as it turned out, maybe Sansa and Theon weren’t as bad at lying as she had assumed.

As it turned out, four days before their final night at camp, when Arya and Gendry decided to sneak into the kitchens and break into Theon’s secret stash of booze, the kitchens were not at all empty. Not by a long shot.

As it turned out, after her sister put her bra back on and Theon pulled his pants up, she learned it shouldn’t have been a bet of if, or even when, but rather a bet of how long ago.

As it turned out, the answer was five months.

Arya called them idiots, and then offered to split the money with them if they kept it a secret for four more days.

(They did.)


	2. + halloween

“Have you seen your sister yet?” Jon asks her as she’s refilling the punch bowl (with extra vodka). The way he says it has her almost nervous.

“No. Why, is she here?”

“Yes,” he smiles around the rim of his plastic cup, and yeah, okay now she’s nervous.

“What did they come as?” she sighs, almost too scared to actually find out what terrible costume her sister and date had decided to scar them with this year.

It was a well known fact Halloween was a big deal for all the Starks and Co. They spent way too much money on costumes and even more on plastic skeletons. They bought out most of the liquor from the convenience store and had every horror movie soundtrack ever released on a single playlist.

Everyone went wild, but no one more than Sansa and honorary Stark family member Theon Greyjoy. Because Sansa was a firm believer in elaborate couple’s costumes and Theon subscribed to the annual ‘I’m going to put in as much effort as possible to make this original while also making this look like I don’t give a shit’ newsletter. 

But both of them were pretty terrible at it.

Which means since they started dating three years ago, their Halloween costumes have only got more embarrassing and weird. 

Two years ago, they went as Shrek and Fiona except Sansa was Shrek and Theon was Fiona and they left green handprints all over the bathroom wall when they snuck away for (a few) mid-party sexcapades.

Last year, they went as a hyperrealistic Burt and Ernie that was so terrifying and uncomfortable to look at, Rickon had actual nightmares afterwards. 

Arya can only imagine what they got themselves into this time.

Being normal people, she’s dressed as Valkyrie and Gendry, wherever he had wandered off to, was Thor. Jon was probably some niche film reference she didn’t get, in a plain black suit, with a gun, and he had, for some reason or another, actually straightened his hair.

“You have to see it,” Jon snorts.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s hilarious.”

Arya groans, that must mean it’s terrible. Jon has terrible taste. 

She downs the rest of her punch in one gulp. “Just tell me what it is so I’m prepared.”

“No way, I want to see your face.”

“Where are they?”

Bran comes up then, having converted his chair into some kind of fantastical looking throne. “Oh my god, you guys. Sansa and Theon are headed this way and- I swear- Holy shit-” his voice dissolves into a fit of laughter until he can’t speak anymore.

Two people enter the room behind him. One asks, “Sup, killer?” at the same time the second voice says, “Hey sis.” Except they’re the wrong voices.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she says.

Jon loses it.

Sansa stands there in torn up black jeans and a black and white striped shirt that’s way too big for her shoulders. She’s got the cheapest brown Party City wig of short curls on her head, her cheeks are contoured to fuck, and she has sketched on what Arya thinks is supposed to be facial hair with what was probably eyeliner.

“Oh my god.”

Holding her hand, Theon is in a velvet blue dress she knows belongs to his girlfriend. He has a ratty red wig that looks only slightly better and falls around his hips. He’s even fucking shaved and is wearing makeup.

They fucking came as each other. 

Sansa is dressed as Theon, and Theon is dressed like Sansa, and they actually came out on Halloween dressed as each other.

“I’m picking out your costumes next year. I swear to god. This is terrifying.”

“I don’t know, I think we’re rather sexy,” Theon boasts. “I mean Sans definitely _does me_ better than I do.”

He winks and Sansa giggles and Arya considers throwing up.


	3. + last words spoken

The horn blows and her heart stops. 

It freezes as cold as the air around them.

She looks at him, sitting just across from her and she sees the same feeling reflected in his eyes. Because it’s time and this is the end and it’s over. 

She wants to stop time. She wishes she were a witch or a red priestess or something, anyone who could stop the world around them, who could delay the war, delay the death and the destruction and the terror that awaits them now that time is up. 

She wants to stop time so she never has to stop looking at his face. So she never has to watch him leave. 

But she cannot stop time, and she cannot delay anything. 

He nods to her and it’s so sad, but it’s also so brave. She knows he does not want to go either, if he had a choice he would stay there and eat soup in silence with her forever. 

If they had forever…

She walks with him until she can’t, until it’s time for her to go with Arya and for him to take her brother to the Godswood. It feels like the end of everything, things that hadn’t even started yet.

And when he turns to go one last time she grabs his hand, his broken trembling hand, between hers.

“Keep him safe.”

“I will,” he nods. She knows he will. She does. She knows he’d fall and die and fall apart to keep her brother safe. 

It scares her more. 

She looks in his eyes and feels like crying because she realizes it now. She realizes what she wants and she realizes before the night is over she will probably lose it and she wishes this was not her life. 

She wishes she were a different Sansa, one that had been less stupid and had made less mistakes and had more time for the things she wanted.

She wishes he were a different Theon, one that had been less scared and was less broken and had more time to feel safe.

They aren’t. 

And that hurts. Not the bitter chill on her cheeks or the fear in her lungs or the ache in her back. Just the missed chance, just the ending, just the string cut too soon.

She pulls him close to her one last time. She never wants to let him go. 

“Be careful,” she whispers. “Please.”

It’s broken. Like the shouts in the wind and the ice under her feet.

“You too.”

It’s the last thing they say, the last thing she says, but it’s not the last thing she means. 

_Come back._

_Don’t die._

_I love you._

When the doors to the crypt open to the dawn and she is alive. When she runs through rubble and bodies and blood to get to the Godswood, to get to her family. When she sees his body, his cold body and his faraway eyes and the blood that stains his perfect mouth.

She wishes she had said something else.


	4. + picnic

She would never get tired of kissing him. 

She might get tired of his stupid jokes, or his inability to be anywhere on time, or occasionally, just the way his face looked, but she would never get tired of kissing him. 

The soft way he would bite at her bottom lip, the rough way his fingers dug into her hips and rubbed against her thighs. The way he sighed and, at that moment, tasted like lemonade and strawberries and sugar. Sweet.

He was shit at a lot of things, but he was perfect at kissing her. He was more perfect at loving her. 

She supposed.

She definitely knocks some kind of tupperware over with her elbow when his hips press against hers against the blanket. She’s positive her foot lands in something soft when his fingers climb the ladder of her ribs, one by one, until his palm rests right under her breast. 

Perfect…

“You taste good,” she mumbled and, god, she couldn’t remember the last time someone made her feel this happy, this good.

“You taste better,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, feel it against her neck. 

She hummed, content and light like music and like birds fluttering through the air. Her fingers curled in his hair and tugged until he groaned and groaned until he laughed and she loved him so much.

“We’re gonna waste all the food,” she sighed with her eyes shut so everything felt like a dream. 

“I’ll get more.”

“But I made lemon cakes.”

“Oh you made lemon cakes?” he chuckled into her skin like the warmest thing she had ever felt. It filled up her chest and she smiled. 

“Mhmm.”

He kissed her nose one time, quick and soft and domestic. “Well if you made lemon cakes…”

He pulled back, lifting himself on his forearms above her, ready to turn away, but he was so perfect. So perfect for her and he made her so happy, so much happier than anyone else ever had or had even tried to and she loved to look at him. She loved to look at him, looking at her. She loved to love him.

Her arms went around his neck and she pulled his mouth back down to hers. She could make more lemon cakes later.


	5. + veronica mars (au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theonsa as LoVe? Everyone say 'thank you, Lola'

One of these days he’s gonna kill her himself, he swears.

If she didn’t give him a fucking stroke and kill him first. 

His foot won’t stop tapping against the balcony floor and his heart still feels kinda, completely fucked, and he can’t hear a thing they’re saying inside no matter how hard he tries. His knuckles hurt.

Maybe later he’ll think about how fucking embarrassing he’s being, but really right now he can’t because his mind is too preoccupied being worried about Sansa Stark for the twelfth time that week. 

Sansa Stark and her heroics and her recklessness and her sharp smile. The girl we was pretty sure he hated, but now kinda thinks he never could. The one inside that motel room right now talking to some government agent that just tried to kidnap her.

So fuck him for being a little concerned, right?

He thinks about the way his heart dropped out of his ass, when he heard her on the phone, when he thought she was in danger. The way it turned into this protective anger he didn’t even know he could feel much less feel for _her._

And yet here he is.

He flexes his wrist. He kinda wished he’d hit the guy one more time, just because. 

He turns when she walks out and he has a compulsive need to swallow. She makes him a little nervous, god knows why. 

She stands in front of him and she just looks at him and he’s waiting for her to yell at him, but she’s not. She’s just watching him and she doesn’t even look angry and god she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. How had he never realized that before? 

Of course she was pretty, it was Sansa, everyone knew she was fucking pretty, he’d just never realized she was so…

“That was stupid,” she says it like a fact because, well, it is. Maybe she made him stupid.

“You’re welcome.” _Yeah, thanks for the heart attack. Let’s do this again sometime._

She could be so frustrating.

“Thank you,” she sighs, and of all the things he had expected her to say that was… not even on the list. She didn’t thank him, she was always irritated with him. Right? 

“Are you okay?”

_Gimme a reason to go kick that guy’s ass and I fucking will._

She nods, silent, and when has Sansa Stark ever been silent around him. He really wants her to say something. But she doesn’t. 

He thinks maybe he should go, and then she’s kissing him.

He’s so shocked, he’s so in awe, at what’s happening he can’t even fucking move. There’s just her soft mouth on his and then it’s over. She pulls back too soon and he’s not sue what just happened.

She’s looking at him, and she looks confused and she looks scared and no he doesn’t want her to be scared. Her eyes so blue and so sweet he wants to fucking drown in them.

He forgets every single word in the English language.

She’s blinks and gives him a funny smile and then she’s turning to go. But he doesn’t want her to go and she can’t go and he can move again. He grabs her arm and turns her back and then he’s the one kissing her. 

He never realized how much he really wanted to kiss Sansa Stark, until he needs to kiss Sansa Stark. 

She’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and he pulls her as close as he possibly can. He wants every part of her. He wants to hold her and he never wants to let go and he can’t even think about how stupid or how out of place that sounds because there’s just her. 

It feels like _finally_ and maybe a little like _the best thing to ever happen to him._

She’s Sansa, and yeah she’s a pain in his ass, and yeah he thought he couldn’t stand her, but he’s kissing her and he remembers how perfect she is. It feels like a dream. It feels like the weirdest most surreal fucking dream of his life. 

And then it ends. 

Her lips are gone and the warm fuzzy feelings in his head feel out of place and he still has no idea what just happened. 

They look at each other and their hands fall away and neither of them says a word. He’s afraid if he says anything he’ll just fuck it up more and, god, does he not want to do that. 

She steps away and she walks down the stairs and he watches her go. He watches her the whole way. She gets to her shitty little car and looks at him and he’s not sure what it means.

He hopes it means something. But she just looks at him and why can’t either of them fucking say anything?

She drives away, and he’s still standing there and he can still feel the way her mouth felt against his. And he’s pretty sure he wants to feel it again and it doesn’t feel weird anymore. 

He’s totally fucking gone for Sansa Stark.

Robb would have killed him.


	6. + accidental "child"

“Now, you have to promise not to freak out.” 

That’s the first thing he says when she steps through the door. 

The very first thing. Before the latch even clicks, before she can drop her keys in the dish, he’s in front of her with that frantic look on his face and hands stretched out in front of him.

She freezes there, closing her eyes and sighing. She should be used to it by now, god, truly she should. Knowing him since he was a grubby twelve year old, and then living with him for the past year. Really, she should expect it.

She pinches the bridge of her nose as delicately as possible. Hoping more than anything it’s something small. 

“I hate it when you say that.”

“Promise,” he urges.

“Theon, what did you do?” she says it as evenly as she can. She does not want this to escalate, but her mind is running through every stupid thing he could have possibly done in the four hours since she last saw him.

The possibilities are… honestly terrifying.

“You have to promise you won’t be mad first. And you can’t yell, it’ll scare her.”

“Scare her? Who is _her_?”

“No. Now see you’re yelling,” he points out and it’s getting harder for her to remain calm. 

“Theon Greyjoy, if you don’t tell me what you did right now-” she doesn’t even get to finish the sentence. A tiny, high pitched whine sounds from behind her roommate cutting the sentence off at her lips. 

They both freeze.

“What is that?”

“Well, so, um…. I may have accidentally got us a dog.” He says it so nonchalantly, it takes her a minute to actually process it. 

“You _accidentally_ got a _dog_?” she means to clarify. 

“Yes,” he nods. She can see he’s waiting for her to yell at him or throw a fit, the tension in his shoulders and how he keeps shuffling on his feet. 

(It’s a little cute. 

Maybe.)

The dog whines again, louder and so sad, and okay Sansa has always loved dogs so maybe it tugs a little at her heart. Just a little. 

And she’s never really been able to stay mad at Theon for very long either. 

“Where is she?”

The grin that breaks across his face makes her roll her eyes and smirk.

(And her stomach do that stupid thing it does when he looks at her sometimes.)

She’s precious. A tiny grey ball of fluff and bouncing legs and she falls in love immediately. She bends down and scooping the squirming puppy into her arms.

“Oh, you’re just the cutest thing aren’t you?” she coos. “Yes, you are!”

She licks sloppily at her cheek, smearing slobber into her skin and rubbing her wet little nose against her neck. It pulls a laugh from her chest, warm and soft and fuzzy just like the thing in her arms. 

(She reminds her of Lady, the day they got her all those years ago, and she feels a little sad too. A little nostalgic, but it disappears with more kisses.)

“So,” she starts, looking back up at Theon, where he’s grinning at her from the doorway. Smiling like an idiot. “How did you _‘accidentally’_ come into the possession of a puppy?”

“Oh, well…” he scratches the back of his neck and looks down. “Robb and I were at the mall, ya know, dicking around, and I’m not saying I was high, but I may have smoked like half a joint on the way there, and we went into that pet store right by the entrance. And they were all so cute ya know? And fluffy and she just looked really lonely and sad and so I asked to play with her, just for a little bit because I felt bad.”

It’s the most unsurprising story she could have heard. Exactly his brand.

“Well, anyway, the lady kept coming over and asking if I was done with her yet, but I wasn’t and like I didn’t wanna say that. And she asked if I wanted her and I mean what was I supposed to say? _‘Sorry ma’am. I’m actually just stoned and wanted to play with a soft puppy for a little bit. I have no intention of taking her. I’ll leave now.’_ So she brought me adoption papers and I just kinda… adopted her.”

“You got a dog because you were high and you felt bad about not wanting to adopt a dog?” she asks, barely containing her laughter. 

“Yes,” he nods, completely serious. 

(Impossibly, she thinks it might make her lover him more.)

“Of course you did,” she grins and he grins back, just as warm. Just as much like sunlight. 

What an idiot.

Later that night, they curl up on the couch, the three of them, for pizza and a shitty movie. She pretends not to notice the way he sneaks her tiny bits of the anchovies from his half (because he’s a Greyjoy with terrible taste). He pretends she doesn’t drop a piece of crust on purpose. 

Credits roll in the dark and she looks over and sees them there, asleep. Theon with his head lolled back on the arm of the couch, and Princess tucked perfectly against his side. They both look so soft and at home and she snaps a quick picture, or maybe several, while it lasts.

(It was, simply put, adorable. It was the cutest thing she had ever seen. It was perfect.)


End file.
